Cut Loose
by German Beauty
Summary: "I can I see how that works for you," Hermione fumed. "Just blame it all on Fred. Just like you did with Bill." Reverend Granger was shocked. "What? What are you talking about?" Read more to find out what happens.


Prologue

The pulsating rhythm of the music filled her body right down to her pink Converse high-tops. She'd wanted to wear the strappy leather heels she got on her last trip into Atlanta, but she'd made that mistake before in this muddy pit of hick town. No matter how good they looked on her, heels were for indoor activities, not wild keggers in the middle of nowhere.  
>The rubber soles on her sneakers bounced to the beat, stomping on the plywood along with a few dozen other sneakers, boots, and a smattering of already ruined heels. The bodies jumping and shifting on the makeshift dance floor kicked up mud along the edges, splattering the few people dumb enough to stand back and watch then join in. Beer sloshed around her half-empty plastic cup with each step. Hoots and hollers filled the air as they sang along.<br>"I love this song!" she screamed over the pumping music to whoever was listening. She didn't know if anyone could even hear her. Didn't care, either. The music was all that mattered.  
>Whoever had set up the spontaneous homecoming party was a genius. It was miles away from her judgmental parents, the school that she'd graduate from at the end of the year, and the town she couldn't wait to leave behind. Only the trees were around to see her having a few sips of beer. To watch her make out with Bill on the dance floor. To do all kinds of things she'd have to repent for in church on Sunday.<br>Early admittance into New York University brought the promise of more nights like this. The freedom to celebrate a life built from her own choices, from making her own mistakes. But none of that mattered now. All she wanted was to dance. _Footloose_, like the song said.  
>Beer spilled out of her cup and onto the plywood as she threw her arms around her best and her boyfriend. "I love you guys!"<br>The moves shifted from the uncoordinated free-for-all to a country line dance. Feet kicked up the coordinated choreography. She knew this one from hours spent in her bedroom learning the steps while her parents screamed for her to stop banging around and turn down the "noise."  
>Twist. Kick. Turn. Stomp. "Wahoo!"<br>"The party's moving!" somebody yelled in her ear. A warm, sweaty hand pulled her along. It was Bill. Her Bill.  
>Leaving him was the only regret she had about getting out of Bomont. She took another gulp of her beer, hoping to push that unhappy thought from her mind. Tonight wasn't about regrets. Tonight was for celebrating.<br>Bill had led the team to homecoming victory only a few hours earlier. They'd skipped out of the official post-game party with the "returning" alumni, who had only come back from down the street. Hardly anyone ever left Bomont. None of the seniors wanted to hang out with their parents and neighbors when they could be out having fun instead. This was the unofficial home-coming celebration—the one their parents and teachers knew about, but pretended didn't exist. As if they just ignored what their kids were up to they'd still be little angels in their parents' eyes.

She took her usual spot riding shotgun in Bill's car while her best friend, Angelina, squeezed into the backseat with the boys. She was practically in George's lap. Angelina had been flirting with him for months. Tonight he finally flirted back.  
>It was way to early to head home. Her curfew had been extended because it was homecoming; her parents let it go on special occasions. She wasn't sure exactly where the group was going now, but wherever Bill wanted to go the party was okay by her.<br>The song continued thumping out of Bill's radio as he started the car. Angelina's brother worked the over-night shift at the local radio station, providing the commercial-free soundtrack for the party. None of the adults listened to the radio this late, so they wouldn't complain that the station had switched from its easy-listening format. Didn't matter that the song was older than she was; she kicked her pink sneakers up on the dashboard and let her toes sway along with the music.  
>The tires spilt dirt behind them as Bill pulled out of the spot between two sycamore trees. The sudden jolt spilled the rest of her beer in the process. "Party foul!" she hollered over the music.<br>Bill only had two beers, and half of hers. She'd seen him pound down four times that watching a Bull-dogs game. Not like she could have offered to drive. The beer and a half she drank was more than enough for a lightweight like her. She threw the plastic cup out the window, turned up the music, and screamed along with the lyrics. One more semester was all that was left before she was free.  
>A hand tapped her on the shoulder and she shifted in the seat. Angelina leaned forward, her hand needlessly pressed against George's body for support. Her mouth was moving, but her voice couldn't compete with the pounding music. It was too dark back there to even read her friend's lips.<br>"Can't hear you!" she shouted to Angelina.  
>The sudden extra light helped. Angelina was saying something about Bill until her mouth froze and her eyes went wide.<br>She turned in time to see that light came from the truck heading straight for them.  
>"BILL!"<br>She grabbed the wheel, but it was too late. Metal struck metal. Her body slammed against the passenger door. The car went spinning. The singing turned into screams. Her voice still the loudest.  
>The car struck the guard railing with a bone-jarring jolt then a snap. The metal rail wasn't enough to stop them. Her head hit the roof. She saw stars. Her body bounced around the passenger seat as more screams drowned out the music.<br>Her forehead smashed into the dashboard as the car came to a sudden stop.  
>But it was cold. So, so cold.<br>_Bill_?  
>He didn't answer. Did she even say his name out loud? It was getting colder.<br>_Where did the water come from_?  
>They were in the lake. That's right. They'd been on Crosby Bridge. The water was rising. She had to get out. The music still played, but the voices had stopped singing along. Stopped screaming.<br>The door wouldn't budge either. The electric windows didn't open. She pressed her hand against the cracked window, trying to break out.  
>Pain shot up her wrist. Something in her was broken like the glass.<br>The water continued to rise.  
>The cold enveloped her body. It made the pain hurt less. It made the world around her quieter. Everything was quieter in the cold.<br>And the darkness.  
>The song was gone, but she could still feel the pulsing beat of the music in the water. Until she didn't feel anything anymore.<p> 


End file.
